Hues
by Crazyhumor
Summary: Damon was taught to hate his whole life and he follows along accordingly. But than he meets Bonnie.
1. Chapter 1

**Before anyone says how this couldn't possibly happen, its just a story. Enjoy.**

She felt as if she was always cold, always hungry, always afraid. She wasn't sure for how much longer she could live like this. She wanted to cry, and she always felt as if she was on the verge, but never did.

Bonnie hugged her blanket closer to her, balling her fingers around the ends and tucking them underneath her chin as she shivered. She tried not to breathe in to much of the mold odor emitting from her blanket, but knew it was pointless when she was surrounded by mold because of the decaying house they had found refuge in. She brought her legs closer to her chest and dug her back further into the corner of the old, gutted out room she had deemed hers.

A rough series of coughs drew Bonnie's attention to the area across the dark room right beside the cold, broken fireplace. Her grams sat there, under a mound of blankets, frail fingers skimming over the rims of the cans of food they had left as she counted and planned.

Bonnie instantly felt bad, guilty. If she were cold and hungry, she could only imagine how the much older woman felt. Bonnie knew the woman went without eating some days just for she could have more. She also knew her grams didn't sleep much, allows on the look out for those who wanted to cause them harm.

She loved her grams, these days more than she ever had before. The woman was strong, amazing.

As if feeling her eyes on her, Sheila Bennett eyes flickered up and met hers. The old woman smiled, astonishing Bonnie once again. Bonnie found it hard to smile these days.

Sheila sat up a little straighter and opened up her blanket and waved Bonnie forward. "Come on, child." Bonnie didn't waste time scrambling to her feet with her blanket and moving across the dusty floor to her grandmother, and even though she wasn't exactly a child anymore, not at seventeen, she curled up next to her grams, enjoying the heat the woman let off.

Sheila closed her blanket around them as she hummed the tune she always hummed ever since Bonnie was a small child. Bonnie rested her head against the woman's shoulder and closed her eyes briefly.

"Grams," Bonnie asked hesitantly, opening her leaf green eyes. Her grams stopped humming her tune and hummed in acknowledgment. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, Sweetie." The woman said simply.

Bonnie bit her lip, gaze on the boarded up, bay windows across from them. "Why don't we try going to the border?" She asked the question that had been on her mind ever sense they had met that dying man in the forest a few days ago who claimed he was trying to reach the border.

"It's not safe," Her grams reasoned.

Bonnie sat up straight and looked at her grams. "But maybe a part of it is now? Maybe that's why he was trying? There's a part that's safe now."

"That man was desperate, Bonnie. He just wanted to try and he died trying. Its not safe."

Bonnie chest burned with indignation. "But grams its not safe here either. They could come for us at anytime, then what? They'll kill us, like how they killed dad." She shouted.

"You better lower your voice, Bonnie Bennett," the woman scolded. "You need to listen to me, I know what I'm talking about."

"Than why is dad dead and why are we living like this?" Bonnie shot back.

Sheila's eyes widened briefly before her face hardened. Bonnie wished she could have taken her words back as soon as she said them.

"Maybe you're right, Bonnie," the woman said quickly, interrupting her, "Waiting her is just waiting on the inevitable." He gaze flickered to their pathetic collection of canned goods. "We'll start for the border tomorrow." Before Bonnie could say anything else or apologize, her grams was standing, dropping her blanket around Bonnie. "I'm going to make sure the back is locked up tight, get some rest, child." The woman quickly moved out of the room, leaving Bonnie behind to beat herself up.

(H)

Her grams always did things early, so Bonnie wasn't surprised when the woman roused her just as the sun was rising, already packed and ready for travel.

"Roll up your blankets, we're leaving now, we don't have a lot of sunlight." The woman handed her a box of raisins. "Hurry up, child."

Bonnie quickly scrambled to her feet, ignoring the aches and pains that came from sleeping on the hard floor. As she rolled up her blankets and threw a couple of glances at her grams. "We don't have to do this, grams. I was just in a bad mood yesterday."

Sheila gave her a strained smile. "No, you're right. Its just as dangerous being here as trying for someplace better."

Bonnie wasn't sure what to say, so she finished rolling up and blankets and shoved them into her dull, green backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She pulled the raisin her grams had given her out of her pocket and began eating her meager breakfast of dried fruit. Her grams seemed to be in deep thought.

"Now, we're going to stay in the trees, Bonnie, and avoid the roads at all costs." Bonnie nodded, she knew this. "If you see anyone you hide," Bonnie frowned, "it doesn't matter if they have skin like ours or as pale as a ghost, Bonnie, you hide." Grams locked eyes with her. "We don't trust anyone."

They couldn't even trust those in the same situation they were in, those with the same skin color? She couldn't understand that. "We have to trust someone at some point, right, Grams?" She asked.

The woman sighed. "Unfortunately, yes, but for now you just trust me. You can do that, right, Bonnie?"

The girl nodded quickly, wanting to make up for what had happened between them yesterday. "Of course, grams."

The woman still didn't seem pleased and actually seemed more worried as if a sudden thought had just hit her. "But if you need to trust someone because I'm not around, just trust in your instincts." Bonnie hesitated but nodded.

(H)

Bonnie wiped her her nose with the back of her glove covered hand as she followed after her grams through the tall naked trees. Her whole was numb with cold and her nose ached and ran. She watched the white tufts of air come out of her mouth with each haggard breath she took. She coughed weakly, attempting to make as little noise as possible as cold air rushed down her throat.

They had been walking for hours with just a couple of breaks between. Bonnie wasn't sure how far the border was from where they were, but she knew that the terrorists that called themselves The Caucasoid Confederation for a Better World, or the CCBW, had taken over most of Virginia, except of Washington D.C., North Carolina, South Carolina, and parts of Georgia the last time she had been able to hear. That was months ago though.

Before they grew to power, Bonnie was a normal junior in high school with two best friends, she lived in a nice house with her father, drove a car gifted to her on her sixteenth birthday, and thought they there was no way for what happened to happen in the United States of America.

Since the CCBW took over her town Bonnie's life went to hell. Every person's of color life went into the pits because of the radical, violent, racist extremists. Houses were burned, churches were burned, men were dragged out of their homes and hung from trees.

She and her family had been forced out of their home and onto the street, they went into hiding like so many others. But they were hunted down. If you weren't 100% white, you were an enemy. Her friends, the ones she had since she was seven years old were no longer allowed to talk to her or help her in fear of being labeled a traitor to the confederation and punished.

Her dad had been with them at first, back when they lived in the old cabin his boss had said he could hide out in until all of this blew over. They stayed there for three months, it was secluded and hidden away, a perfect place to hide. It had been lonely, but it had working water and heat. It wasn't to bad. But than one day men in big, black trucks arrived with their big guns and forced her dad outside were they executing him right in front of them with a bullet to the back of the head.

Bonnie remembered how gleeful all of them had been as they laughed over her father's body. She remembered how they promised to return and do worse to her and ordered them not to leave until a transportation team arrived to haul her and her grams off to one of those horrid camps. They hadn't stayed though, they ran once the men left, before they could bury her father's body.

Bonnie thought about her friends a lot. Elena and Caroline, her two best friends since kindergarten. She wondered how their lives were now, better than hers she didn't doubt. Sometimes she found herself wallowing in resentment towards them though obviously CCBW's rise wasn't their fault and she doubted they agreed with their views. But she just felt as if in general people could have did more.

"Bonnie," said girl came to a stop upon hearing her grams voice. She brought her attention to the woman and off her own mind. Sheila stood in front of her, one hand raised as she obviously listened, covered head cocked to one side.

Bonnie tried to listen as well, straining to hear what had caught her gram's attention. It took awhile but than she heard it, an excited whoop and the reviving of an engine.

Bonnie quickly looked at the woman who was staring in the direction of the noises in concentration. A second later, Bonnie found herself being dragged along after the woman as she pulled her left, off the path they were traveling. Coming upon a mess of shrubby, both Bennett women hunkered down behind it and waited.

Bonnie felt as if her breathing was to loud, but each time she tried to control it, it only seemed to get even louder. Her heart raced with fear along with her mind. She was sure this was it. It was all her fault for wanting to leave the house. Her grams had said this was a bad idea.

The feeling of her grams hand lightly coming to rest on her back, nearly made her scream, but the gently rubbing had her calming down a second later, her breathing evened out. She watched the woods through the shrub as the noises grew louder, her gloved fingers sank into the muddy ground and curled in an attempt to find some levity.

It wasn't to long before the Four wheelers and their riders came into view, speeding along around trees, laughing and shouting. They all wore camo as if they were out hunting, the long guns strapped to the back of their vehicles confirmed that they were. It was four of them and all of them came to a skidding stop just were Bonnie and her grams had just been a few seconds before. They all were not wearing helmets which made it very clear that they were all young, white men.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, niggers," one of them shouted. Bonnie flinched. Her grams hand stilled on her back.

The four hunters waited, listening. The woods were as quiet as the dead, nothing spoke, nothing moved. Than something snapped, sounding like a gunshot in the quiet. The four instantly spun around to face their direction.

 _No_ Bonnie wailed mentally. She turned to look her her grams, wanting to see what she was going to do but the woman kept her eyes on the men. Bonnie swallowed harshly.

Just as Bonnie was about to urge her grams to move, to run, their was another rustle of movement before Bonnie caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned quickly just as the men howled with excitement as a woman and man darted out of another clump of shrubs nearby and took off running, in the woman's arms was a small child, who cries Bonnie could hear clearly now.

She watched wide eyed as the woman ran with the child, the man behind her. The hunters gave chase. The man was running slower than the woman, much slower, as if on purpose. The hunters caught up with the man not to far away and circled him, cutting him off from the woman. The woman kept running with the child, the hunters distracted.

One of the hunters pulled out a baseball bat and a second later smashed it against the mans head with a giddy laugh. Bonnie heard the crack from her position and flinched. The man went down and didn't move anymore. They circled a few more times before taking off after mother and child.

When they were gone, Bonnie found she couldn't hold in her sobs any longer. Sheila was still staring off after the hunters. Bonnie shook and she couldn't stop.

"Bonnie," her grams' voice cut through her mind which was playing the events that had just taken place over and over again. "Stay here, stay here until I come back," the woman said, standing out of her crouch.

Bonnie scrambled up after her. "What are you doing? Where are you going?" She asked panicked.

The older woman blinked rapidly, as if warding of tears. "That woman and her child need help. I'm sick of everyone not helping each other because they're afraid."

"I'll go with you." Bonnie quickly said, not wanting to send her grams off to face violent racists alone. "I am going with you."

"No you're not, Bonnie." The woman turned to face her, her gloved hand caressing Bonnie's face. She smiled sadly. "You're going to stay here and wait for me. Listen to me this, Bonnie, please."

Bonnie didn't want to stay behind. She didn't want her grams to go off alone. But something about her grams expression made her nod numbly in agreement. "I will." She forced herself to say. "But if you're not back by sunrise, I'm coming looking for you."

"Fair enough," the woman said. She turned as is she was going to leave, but stopped. "But if I don't come back, let me finish, Bonnie," the woman sighed. "If I don't come back, I want for you to be strong and survive, for me and for your father." Bonnie heart sunk at the woman's words. Grams shrugged off the backpack she was carrying with their food in it and sat it down next to Bonnie's boot covered feet. "I love you."

"I love you too," Bonnie quickly said, her voice cracked.

Sheila smiled one last time before moving quickly in the direction the mother and child and their hunters had gone. She didn't spare the body of the man a glance.

(H)

Her dad taught her how to make a fire the first week after they were kicked from their home, so Bonnie built one for the first time that night. Normally, grams would say no to the idea because it could draw unwanted attention, but Bonnie was cold and she wanted her grams to find her when the sun went down.

Bonnie sat for hours waiting on her grams, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes on the small fire. She tried not to think about her grams absence the whole time she was gone, but when the sun began to rise again, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

With soft early morning light being her only light, Bonnie threw dirt onto her fire and stomped it out with her boot. She ate half a box of raisins before heading off to find her grams, following the tire tracks.

She walked until she could clearly see the sun above her through the thin tree limbs, long after she had lost track of the tire marks along the dirt and leaves. But the trail of blood the popped up told her where she needed to go.

Her heart in throat she came across the body of the woman first. The woman's brown skin was ashen with death and her clothes damp with drying blood. One side of her head was bloody and torn from where her braids had been ripped from her head. Bonnie couldn't bring herself to look for long.

She knew what she would find, but that hadn't stopped her from looking. It didn't stop her from following the blood trail.

Her eyes found the child first, because she couldn't bring herself to look at the other body right away. She couldn't gaze at the child for long either, she felt sick. The little body was face down, the back of his head a bloody mess, the bloody rock not to far away.

When she looked at her grams, she knew she was dead. The deep slash across her throat said so, but the dullness in her usually warm eyes was most damning.

Bonnie didn't cry, she didn't break-down into tears besides her gram's blood soaked body, all she could manage to do was blink rapidly. Her mind somehow not connecting with what she was seeing. A numbness she knew wasn't right climbed inside her and made a home for the whole ten minutes she stood there gazing at her grams body.

She turned away finally and took a step forward, away, before taking another. She was twenty feet away when the numbness suddenly left her and her emotions returned. She wailed like a broken animal and fell down to her knees and sobbed into her hands, not caring how much noise she was making.

Her grams was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews you guys, you have no idea how much, with this story, how its greatly appreciated. I was unsure how people would respond to this story. Keep them coming.**

Damon quite honestly didn't give a damn about any of this.

"Hurry up, Damon, the photographer is here." His mother burst into his room without knocking like she had done since the day he was born. It didn't even faze him anymore. After having your mother walking in on you with your hand on your dick, while the other held tightly onto a playboy magazine when your thirteen sort of erased the word shame from your vocabulary. "Damon, I told you to wear white, I know you heard me. Your father and Stefan are going to be in their CCWB uniforms and the rest of us are wearing white. What's with you and your obsession with black anyways?"

Damon simply blocked his mother's voice out, he was a pro at it, as he continued to button his black shirt up. "Privacy, mother," he called out in a sing-song voice.

Unfortunately, his mother was just as good at tuning him out. "You know if you took your CCWB position seriously you would be able to wear as many CCWB black uniforms as you like. Honor your father and graduate from being just a guard."

Damon watched his mother's reflection in the mirror as she searched through his draws, looking for the white shirt she wants him to wear. He rolled his eyes. "There's something wrong with being just a CCWB guard, mother? What will everyone that strives to be on say?"

His mother shot him a glare. "You know what I mean, Damon."

He nodded, he did. "I don't want to be like Stefan, mother." He caught the button up she tossed him. He grinned at her and she frowned.

"Be down in ten minutes, Damon, and please try being respectful." She smoothed a hand over her neatly, french braided hair, seeming slightly frazzled.

"You look beautiful, mother," he spoke up, knowing no one else had likely commented on the obvious attention his mother had placed on herself today. She had on a beautiful white dress and her makeup was perfectly done.

A smile instantly lit the woman's face. She pointed at him, "ten minutes." she reiterated before leaving.

Damon sighed before moving to remove his black shirt to put the white one on. He really didn't feel like taking part in this picture day.

When he was dressed he moved downstairs into their recently built mansion's fancy living room. Everyone was already in the living room when he arrived and were obviously waiting on him. His father looked anything but pleased with his tardiness.

"About time," the man's deep voice boomed as he stood, "lets get started." He ignored Damon and Damon ignored him.

A little man with thin glasses and a balding head looked up from where he was tinkering with a camera. "This is the whole family, General Salvatore?"

"It is, and I have a meeting with the other Generals later this afternoon so I would like finish this as quickly as possible."

"Of course, General Salvatore. If you all are ready, I am."

Damon raised an eyebrow at his brother, who simply gave him a dry look in return. It never failed to tickle Damon when he saw his little brother dressed up in that crime of a uniform, known as the CCWB uniform. A black jacket, goofy golden tie and buttons, the uniform looked even more ridiculous on Stefan.

Stefan was forced to look away from him when he was handed his squirming, blonde baby by his wife, Lexi. His baby brother instantly smiled down pride and joy of the Salvatore household, and kissed his head. Damon had to hand it to his brother, for someone who hadn't exactly chosen how his life was going, he sure was taking it in stride.

Three years ago an ever kind, sixteen year old Stefan made the mistake of telling his father that he didn't want to be apart of the CCWB movement. His father was furious, but instead of beating him back into submission like what his father would have done to Damon if he ever thought of saying something ridiculous, his father took a more manipulative approach. The end result was Stefan and Lexi, who were just best friends, somehow ended married, a year later pregnant, and now parents to one of the first CCWB born children who were to be raised in a world of white supremacy.

Pictures were taken quickly and the photographer made a speedy exit, it was almost comical in Damon's opinion. He could understand though his father was deemed one of the most important generals of the movement, a lot of people seemed to suffocate in his presence, including his family.

Damon flopped down on the ivory couch in the living room and watched as his father showed his mandatory moment of affection towards the most important thing to him at the moment, his grandchild, before kissing his wife and leaving. The kid wasn't even a year old yet and his father was already starting the manipulation. His father believed any child raised under this new system of government would be perfect, full of white pride.

"I have to leave too," Stefan said to his wife as he leaned forward and kissed his son.

"I thought today was your day off." Lexi said with a frown.

Stefan gave her an apologetic look, before kissing her on the forehead. "Something came up. I couldn't get out of it."

"What about the park? We were suppose to take Adam to the park. The weather has been horribly cold lately and today is the only warm day for weeks." Lexi pushed.

"I'm sorry," Stefan said sincerely, he glanced at Damon.

"Don't even think about it, I gotta work." Damon stopped the idea in his brother's head before it could even form. He did not want to go to the park with a bunch of screaming children running a muck.

"You know this wouldn't even be an issue if you would just allow me to go outside without a male escort." The younger blonde shot. Damon looked around for their mother, finding the woman had gone missing from the living room, smart woman.

"Its not safe," Stefan defended, "you know that. Its not only you who has to abide this rule."

"Exactly my point," she huffed, "this was suppose to be a better world. We caged up and got rid of all of the 'Other' but we still live in fear? This is ridiculous."

"You better be sure not to talk like that when father's around," Damon chimed in. He was ignored. He shrugged.

"Soon," Stefan stressed, "Its not any of the 'Other' we have in the camps we have to worry about, they are harmless now, but the government outside our borders is still very much a threat. When that's taken care of the world we were promised will come to true fruition."

Lexi didn't seem swayed or moved. "When, Stefan, when?"

Stefan obviously didn't have an answer to that. "I will be back later tonight." He glanced at his brother watching them from the couch and sighed. "Damon," he nodded before he left.

(H)

Damon was a guard at Camp A-3 and he was an officer in the male section, which was also the section that housed the violent colored who were placed into the nearby prison before the CCWB came. It was an uninteresting job, he looked after about twelve men who resided in three mobile homes. They mostly just played cards all day and bitched and moaned.

"How has it been?" He asked as he joined his partner in the small guard station. His partner, Turner Hopkins, was a puny man with a sad little mustache. He was funny sometimes, in that way where its funny laughing at him and not with him. He wasn't too bad to be stuck with for twelve hours a day.

His partner looked up from his game of solitary as he entered and took a sip of whatever he was drinking, leaned back and propped his legs onto the table and stretched his arms until both popped.

"All of the monkeys are behaving," he yawned. "How did picture day with the fam go?"

Damon sat down in his chair and checked the camera monitors briefly before losing interest. "How one would expect."

"I don't know, man, which is why I'm asking. How does a First Ring Family operate?"

Damon ignored him and pulled out his cellphone, he skimmed the CCWB news sites before going international. On the other side of the border tensions were raises because of the governments lack of success against war against the CCWB. The article he was reading said they weren't bombing them because of the amounts of civilians they had and how they were working out negotiations to get them to release the 'Others' in their custody along with the none original CCWB members. Damon already knew that wasn't going to happen. The civilians and the 'Others' were very much their security blankets, they knew the United States government were cowards and wouldn't make any big moves against them. That's why CCWB had separated from the rest of the United States, the government was weak and corrupted.

His phone vibrated in his hands as a message appeared on his phone. It was from his father, which was a slight surprise.

 **'We are to a public execution to be lived televised. Prepare the 'Other' Omar Abusa. His punishment for raping a white woman will finally be upheld.'**

Damon sighed. "Which one is Omar Abusa?"

Turner hummed and picked up his tablet, a second later he held it up. "That big black one in cabin 3. Why what's up?"

Damon stood and grabbed his keys. "General Salvatore wants to hold another public execution, one of ours is the lucky participant."

"Goody, just what we need, CCWB officers coming in and messing up the flow of the place." Turner scoffed. "You got him?"

Damon nodded. He stepped out of the office after grabbing his gun and walked across the brown dirt covered ground towards cabin 3. As soon as he unlocked the door the odor hit him. He scowled, the filthy animals never bathed.

The four men looked up at him lazily. "Omar Abusa?" He barked out. No one moved, but a couple of them did smirk. Damon's water blue eyes searched the faces but didn't see Omar. "Where is he?" He demanded. "Turner," he yelled out, "get the fuck in here."

Turner jogged over a few seconds later, gun already drawn. "What the hell, man?"

"Watch them while I look inside for him."

"You heard him, black asses out, now." Turner shouted. They didn't move very quickly but they did file out of the mobile home.

Damon went to searching the one bedroom home and found no one. He stomped outside where Turner had the other four lined up. "You sure he was in that one?"

"Yeah, man, I can check the other ones if you want."

Damon stared at him. "That would be one grand fucking idea."

Omar Abusa was missing and with all of their prisoners lined up they could see they were indeed one prisoner short. Turner started the interrogation, spraying men with freezing cold water, the water pressure enough to cause blisters.

"What do you mean you can't find him?" His father's voice snarled into his ear through the phone. "You are not telling me you allowed one of them GD porch monkeys to get one over on you?" Damon flinched.

"Its a mistake, I'll handle it." Damon quickly said.

"You better, Damon, its my reputation on the line, son. Find him."

(H)

Damon traveled the road behind the prison camp in his light blue mustang, eyes peeled. He knew the prisoner wouldn't stick to the roads, but he hoped he would be dumb enough to try and find shelter in one of the homes just off the roads. He searched a couple before deciding he would mover further into the woulds. He pulled to the side of the road and removed his rifle from his trunk and hooked his hand gun to his side. He patted his back pocket, hitting the handcuffs there.

He tried to be as quiet as he could as he moved through the trees, but the fallen leaves littering the ground made that nearly impossible underneath his heavy boots. He took out his phone and called turner.

"I'm South of Boomer road, you got any more information from them?"

"They ain't telling me shit," Turner spat, "dumb shits. I'm going to make their lives hell, you wait and see."

"Lets focus on the prisoner that's missing right now, Hopkins."

Damon hung up before the man could say anything else and returned his focus to his task.

Sundown he returned to his car and called Stefan telling him he wouldn't be home until sometime tomorrow. He decided he would stay out here in his car and start searching again first thing in the morning.

He was awakened by a scream which had him sitting straight up, an annoying ache in the center of his back. He frowned groggily out of the window and directly into the rising sun. Damon groaned and rubbed his forehead.

When he heard the scream again he quickly scrambled out of his car, not forgetting to grab his guns. He jogged towards the direction of the scream hoping it had something to do with his prisoner.

It did. He ran right up on a scene he wasn't to sure how to feel about.

His prisoner had an 'Other' girl pinned down, trying to avoid being kicked by her flaying legs as he tried to pull her pants down. She scratched and punched at the man, but he acted as if he had lost it and was desperate.

"Freeze," he yelled, causing both 'Others' to freeze. "I've had a really bad day because I had to look for you, Omar." Damon chided.

Omar looked over his shoulder at him, brown eyes wide. "Fuck you, man."

Damon sucked on his teeth. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Now, get off the girl and come back home. We've missed you."

Omar scowled at him. A second later the man had the girl in a head lock, his large arm around her throat. The girl's wide, leaf green eyes locked onto Damon's blue ones as tears filled them. Her brown face was dirty and twigs and leaves stuck to her dark brown hair.

She looked so afraid, Damon's hand faltered only for a moment before he regained control. His heart twisted with that sicking thing called compassion. Omar tighten his hold on the girl and she gasped. Damon winced at the panic that hit him. He forced it away.

"You think I care about that black girl?" Damon called out. "Go ahead, break her neck."

Omar laughed. "You know, we aren't as stupid as you were raised to believe, Mr. Damon." The man bit out. "I can read panic on a face as white as yours as easily as I can take a shit. I may be a no good rapist, I mean, you are who you are, right? But I know a racist when I see one, a true racist, not a little boy following his daddy's orders." The man laughed again as the girl clawed at his arm. "The only she's going to live is if you kill me, right here, right now. Lets see what type of coward you are, Mr. Damon."

Damon's hands became slick and he gritted his jaw. Omar tighten his hold on the girl and her eyes began to droop, the hand clawing at his arm became slack.

Damon didn't really have a choice.

"Shit," he cursed, pulling the trigger of his gun. The bullet hit Omar Abusa right in the middle of his eyes.


End file.
